The skies over New York were clear, but a storm brewed quietly behind the tall, silent walls of the O’Connell estate. Lena sat at the grand piano in the sunroom, her fingers lightly brushing the keys without sound. She wasn’t playing. She was thinking.
Everything had led to this: the lies, the manipulations, the stolen documents, and the unrelenting shadow of Vanessa Malloy. But for the first time, Lena didn’t feel like prey. She felt like a sword being drawn from its sheath.
Carson stepped into the room, holding a freshly printed legal document. “The arrest warrant’s been signed,” he said. “They’re going to pick her up sometime today.”
Lena looked up. “Are they notifying her?”
“They want to catch her off guard,” Carson said. “No time to run. No time to destroy anything else.”
She stood and walked toward him. “And if she resists?”
“They’re prepared.”
It was a strange thing—relief and dread living in the same breath. Lena wanted justice, not vengeance. But she knew this wouldn't end in
